To Those Left Behind
by Lynyrd Lionheart
Summary: Henry finally tells Jo the truth. Abe thinks his father is an idiot.


**AN: My first foray into **_**Forever**_** fic. My take on a potential revelation scenario. It's Abe heavy, because Abe is awesome.**

**To Those Left Behind**

His father is a good man, the very best of men, and one of the smartest in addition. But even the best, smartest of men can have their moments of stupidity, and Abe often thinks that Henry had more than most.

It's not that Henry _tries_ to be insensitive, it's just that he never really _thinks_. He doesn't think of the effect his deaths had on those left behind, that even knowing what would happen, seeing him die was…

It was terrifying.

In Henry's mind, he always came back… so his deaths really had no other effect. But for those left behind, in that time from death until reawakening in the river?

When Jo comes into the store, shaking and staring wide eyed, her hands covered in bright red, Abe knows what's happened. He knows, and he wishes his father were there, because why does Henry never _think_.

"Henry," Jo says, staring at Abe, and he's already moving around her, turning the sign on the door to closed and helping her leave the storefront behind for a chair in the office. "Henry. Abe… Abe… I'm so sorry, but Henry…"

"It's okay, Jo," Abe soothes, because he's been in her place before. He's seen his father die, felt his father's blood, and maybe he should have told Henry that he still has nightmares about it. That he still wakes, haunted by a hundred and one deaths that weren't permanent, but that he couldn't stop seeing because death is terrifying, even when you know it won't stick. "Sit here. I have some tea that will help."

He tries to pull away, but Jo's hand shoots out from beneath the blanket he's put around her still shaking shoulders, and she holds onto his wrist like a vise. Her eyes are too large, her face too pale, and her cheeks are streaked with tears. She takes a gasping breath, trying to fight her way through shock.

"Henry is dead," she manages to say at last, and then the shaking picks up again. "He's dead. I'm so, so sorry Abe. He's gone… I don't know where. He was just there and he was saying… God, he sounded _crazy_. And then there was blood and then he was just… gone."

Abe wraps his arms around the detective and curses Henry for a fool, because what the hell had he been thinking? Abe had wanted him to tell the truth, of course, but he hadn't wanted it done like _this_.

For such a smart man, Henry can be so incredibly _clueless_, and in what world did he think killing himself in front of Jo would be okay?

"I'm going to get you the tea, Jo," Abe says, pulling away and resting his hands on her shoulders. "It will warm you up, help you calm down. So just wait, okay?"

He leaves her to make the tea, the motions of moving around the kitchen natural. It takes him a few moments and nearly spilling boiling water on himself to realize that his hands are shaking. He sets everything down and stretches his fingers. It's getting to him, because he knows what Jo's going through. The blood and the worry, and for him he'd known it wouldn't be permanent.

But still – each and every death haunts him.

He manages to calm his shaking hands, to finish the tea, and to get a towel that he soaks in water to clean her hands up with. Right now she's still in shock over what she saw, but Abe knows what comes next.

When he enters the office once more, Jo is staring at her hands, as though just noticing that they're covered in Henry's blood. He sets the tea aside and rushes to her side before the panic can really set in, and then cleans away the blood.

"You're not surprised," Jo states, and he knows it's a credit to her strength that she's able to pull herself together as she has, to fight back the shock. "Henry is _dead_, Abe."

Abe continues to wipe the blood away and contemplates what to say next.

_Henry has died a lot, Jo._

_ It's not the first time, probably not the last._

_ I know._

All things that cross his mind, all things he will not say. Instead he sets the towel aside and hands her the tea.

"It's chamomile. Drink it all. It'll help."

She takes the heavy mug and looks at him over the rim. She sips, never taking her eyes from his.

"You don't seem at all surprised."

"Where's his body, Jo?"

The question makes her hands shake again, and he takes the mug from her hands when she tries to set it aside. She stretches her fingers, much as he had in the kitchen, and then shakes her head.

"It makes no sense," she says. "Absolutely no sense. He just… he…"

Jo is a woman of reason, Abe knows this. But there is no reason that explains what happened. That Henry killed himself and then disappeared.

"Nothing about this makes sense, Jo," Abe says softly, and her eyes dart up to his. He gives her a soft smile, because for all that she's the jaded police detective, it occurs to him that she is still very young. He presses the mug back into her fingers which have ceased their shaking again. "Drink up. Everything will be okay."

He leaves her once more, to drop the bloody towel in the laundry and to collect his own thoughts. He glances at the clock, and thinks that Henry should be back soon. Hopefully Henry will be back soon. Jo needs to see him, to know he's okay.

And so does Abe.

It never gets easier, knowing that Henry is dead. You'd think it would – that with each return to life, Abe would stop worrying, stop mourning. But he never does.

And Henry is a damn fool, for doing this to Jo.

"Abe, I need you to get Detective Martinez on the phone. I think I may have done something quite foolish!"

Abe steps into the store as Henry bursts in through the door calling for him. He's dressed in a ridiculous outfit too small sweat mans and a too large sweater, but he's whole and healthy and full of entirely too much energy for a man that's centuries old, and Abe finds himself clutching the back of an antique chair as he sends up a prayer of thanks. Then he looks to his father with his best exasperated expression.

"Something quite foolish?" he responds dryly. "You think?"

Before he can say any more, Jo has exited the office and is staring at Henry. Henry comes up short when he sees her, and Abe looks at him with a raised brow.

"Henry," she breathes out. She takes a small step towards him, then freezes, clutching the table in front of her in a death grip. "How? You… you had no pulse. I felt it. You didn't have one. And you – _where did you vanish_?"

Henry doesn't know how to respond. So few know about him, and Abe knows that his first wife's reaction haunts him to this day. Telling Jo the truth was a huge leap of faith for him, and now he doesn't know how to deal with it.

Or perhaps he doesn't know how to deal with Jo's appearance, too pale and grief-stricken and slowly simmering anger now that Henry is standing there. This isn't the Detective Martinez they are used to, and perhaps Henry will finally have to realize that his deaths are not easy on those left behind.

Tension simmers in the store, snapping between the detective and Henry, and Abe looks between them.

"Did you finish the tea?" he asks at last, and Jo starts, almost as though she had forgotten he was there.

"I… no," she replies with a shake of her head.

"Well, that's no good," Abe replies, and steps up to her, herding her back into the office. "You need to finish it. It's not easy. And _you_" – he turns back to Henry with a _look_, one that tells Henry he'll be hearing Abe's opinion later – "you need to get out of those ridiculous clothes. Join us when you do."

Then he's alone with Jo again, helping her back in to her seat.

"You're not surprised," she notes, and she's calmed down, though Abe can still see shock and panic lingering in her eyes, just waiting to come out again. "You knew. You knew about… _what is this_, Abe?"

"It's Henry's story to tell," Abe replies diplomatically, handing the mug back to her. Jo stares him down, and he lets out a small sigh, deciding to give her _something_. "I was worried. It doesn't matter… no matter how many times you see it, it will never get easier. Every time, I'm afraid it'll be the last. That he won't come back."

"How many times have there been?"

"More than I care to remember."

Henry joins them again, having changed rapidly, and their conversation ends. Henry takes the seat across from Jo, but Abe knows he's not needed for this part. He pats his father on the shoulder and leaves him to explain everything to her.

In the kitchen, he fixes his own mug of tea. It takes him far longer than it should.

His hands are shaking again.

**AN: So in my head, I would totally see Henry not understanding the effect his death(s) could have on those that see them. So I figured that if Jo insinuated he was crazy, he might actually kill himself, just so that she couldn't doubt that he's telling the truth. Thus, this was born. **


End file.
